Come in, Spike
by Midnight Wolfy
Summary: Willow (Lily) waits for the day he will come for her. ::Willow(Lily)!Centric: :One-short: :Future fic: :Implied Spike/Willow: :Marshall/Lily:


**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters mentioned or alluded to. **

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Twenty years she had begged from Him. A chance to live a normal human life before embracing the one that He would give her. She waiting anxiously as the years counted down. Five years into her borrowed time, she married. Two years after that she was pregnant, and wouldn't that go over well with Him.

Marriage was no big deal, a human ritual with human ties and utterly worthless compared to the scars on her throat. A child, on the other hand, was flesh of her flesh. She knew that He would evaluate the child as He evaluated her. Magick coursed through his veins just as it did her. His father was oblivious to that fact. Their Mommy and Me time was held at a school, that was no lie. He just didn't know the school was a branch of a highly diverse institute in England that she had made into a possibility.

Her son was a gentle spirit like his father. The aura surrounding him was familiar, a past love reborn with past Gifts. She wept when he was born and wept again when she looked into familiar eyes, seen a familiar soul peeking out. She loved this soul, had killed for it. A happier existence for her sweet innocent love this time around she was assured.

She knew that He would see her beloved as what he once was. Knew that He wouldn't turn him but would accept and love him for who he once was. A sweetness that shouldn't be tainted. A soul that held such little darkness. She would watch him grow and become something great.

He would claim him as one of His but not turn him, of that she was sure. Others would sense the claim. The Order of Aurelius was still to be feared and respected as one of the oldest clans. Their colorful past giving them an air of uncertainty, much was considered myth and legend. She caught whispers; half-truths and untruths but the facts were passed off as tall tales even by those whom were unbelievable themselves.

The vampire with the soul was still the most common half-truth. She thought of him fondly and nostalgia over came her. Rewarded with Shanshu, he was living blissfully among those that he once hunted. Finally happy but still the peoples champion. His daughter, brought to the same classes as her son, was Gifted. Talented, as her mother was, in necromancy she was a bone reader and possessed the Sight. Burdened not with the future, easing her father's fear, but with the past. Stronger than her mother, she needed tutelage in reanimation. Her favorite toy was her reanimated cat skeleton much to her mother's amusement and utter fascination. Her mother brought thoughts of an ex vengeance demon, just as socially awkward but no less likeable.

Life given for the ones she loved, her memory brought thoughts of a yellow crayon and a man happy in his semi-retirement. Rough edged and tormented with the past, she had given him her gift with technology and something that had been lost. One became two which halved his ability but allowed him normalcy and a chance to pretend. Bespectacled but with that awkward charm, he found his niche and someone that he could love. Still saving lives but in a less active way she was proud of her oldest friend.

These thoughts brought her to the one that started it all. The one that changed the course of things for better and worse. A friend, a protector, a Slayer. Trying full retirement she was working at an advertising company that was mostly right but sometimes very wrong just as the woman herself was. The redhead laughs when she sees the News of raining coffee and knows that the retired Slayer is most likely at fault for it.

These thoughts always bring her back to Him. As seven years turn into ten and ten into fifteen. She is restless and jumpy. She hasn't seen Him in person but she senses Him from time to time. Felt him in the early evenings as she relaxes surrounded by her family in their bar. Felt Him in the wee hours of the morning as she calms her fitful son. Tries not to feel him when her husband tries for a second child which she magickly prevents even as she's in the throes of passion.

Her heart races as she is allowed one last New Year. She marks down the days on her calendar. Her husband senses her unease. Asks everyday what is wrong. She reveals small things she never told anyone outside of their group. Her beliefs, her fears, and things she knows will come true are whispered to her dear one in the quiet of predawn. She breaks his heart slowly, every day for eleven months and thirty days she reveals harsh truths and unravels easy lies.

Her human love weeps. Her human family holds an intervention. They would not let her go, they insist. She is too dear to them. She steels her resolve. This is how it was always going to be. She had two choices, she tells them, both end in death by His hands but only one ends in her staying dead. She doesn't tell them that in His eyes the choice was merely a courtesy, an illusion for her own comfort.

The day arrives and she waits. She cuddles her son, kissing him on the forehead. Shares a quiet morning with her husband. Has coffee with His human sire. Video chats with her oldest friend. Calls her savor and listens to her rabble about her newest embarrassment. Squeaks in surprise at the party thrown in her honor by she closest friends. As night falls and they hear a steady rasp on the door, she smiles and says,

"Come in, Spike."


End file.
